


My Childhood Spat Back Out The Monster That You See

by rightsidethru



Series: Secret Santa/Holiday Exchanges 2017 [4]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Creatures & Monsters, Canon-Typical Violence, Creature Stiles, Demon Stiles Stilinski, Demons, Eternal Sterek Secret Santa 2017, Eternalsterek Secret Santa 2017, M/M, Magical Stiles Stilinski, Wordcount: 1.000-5.000, sterek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-26
Updated: 2017-12-26
Packaged: 2019-02-12 22:39:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,429
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12969933
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rightsidethru/pseuds/rightsidethru
Summary: Appearances can be deceiving.Caught by hunters, Derek immediately dismisses his gangly, fellow prisoner as a pressing concern.After all, the amber-eyed teenager couldn't be more than one hundred and forty-seven pounds soaking wet.What type ofthreatcouldhepossibly be?(The answer: a large one.)





	My Childhood Spat Back Out The Monster That You See

**Author's Note:**

  * For [HDHale](https://archiveofourown.org/users/HDHale/gifts).



**_My Childhood Spat Back Out The Monster That You See_ **

*

 _I’m in the de-details with the devil_  
_So now the world can never get me on my level_  
_I just gotta get you off the cage_  
_I’m a young lover’s rage_  
_Gonna need a spark to ignite_  
“My Songs Know What You Did In The Dark (Light Em Up)” – Fall Out Boy

**

Pain was the first sensation that Derek became coherent to: the pain of broken bones, of too many cuts and lacerations that his body was struggling to heal, most likely one at a time depending on priority, of a heavy enough dose of wolfsbane that the Alpha’s mind felt cloudy and still stuffed with cotton.

He groaned quietly, head turning to the side to muffle the sound against the meat of his forearm—

“Oh, good; you’re finally awake. I was beginning to wonder if the assholes dosed you with too much wolfsbane when they nabbed you—I was starting to wonder if you wouldn’t ever wake up, wolf-boy.”

The voice was something unexpected, low enough to not trigger another headache, and Derek slowly lifted his face just enough to peek over his arm: hazel eyes zeroing in on an amused, whiskey-hued gaze in the corner of the cell that the ‘wolf currently found himself in. _Odd_ , Derek silently commented to himself, thoughts muzzy with pain and drugs, _I didn’t hear his heartbeat._ But with the amount of wolfsbane that would have been needed to knock him out in the first place… well, it wasn’t surprising that the dark-haired werewolf’s senses were still out of commission.

“…who…?” Derek rasped, sandpaper-y sore and drier than Death Valley: he choked and coughed on the words as the rest of the Alpha’s question caught in his throat—words unsaid and swallowed back by a sudden desperation for water. The ‘wolf pressed his face against his arm once more, muffling the sounds as much as possible as pain spiked and dizziness surged to the foreground yet again.

There was the soft, chiming sound of chains brushing against one another, too high and bell-like to be steel, and a hand cupped over the nape of Derek’s neck to perhaps offer some sort of reassurance; the hazel-eyed man snarled, low and vicious, at the sensation and, almost immediately after, the gentle touch pulled away.

“Sorry, sorry. No touching the puppy; I got the message loud and clear. I left a water bottle by your elbow,” the other boy said, voice steady and words spoken without a trickle of fear to lace them: even in the midst of his own pain, Derek found himself… surprised. Obviously, the teen knew enough about the supernatural to be aware that the werewolf had been drugged with wolfsbane; so, too, the amber-eyed teen must have known that Derek was an Alpha from the flash of the ‘wolf’s crimson eyes. So then… why didn’t Derek smell the other’s fear? Was the wolfsbane that strong of a dose, to take away both scent _and_ hearing…?

“And I’m Stiles, by the way. Since you asked.”

\--and, with that, Derek _knew_ that the wolfsbane had affected his hearing because _Stiles_. Really?

“…what the hell is a Stiles?” the Alpha croaked out in answer even as he braced his weight on one elbow to slowly push himself upright. The water bottle that Stiles had said he left behind got knocked out, water almost immediately waterfalling out of its mouth, and Derek snagged it quickly before he lost too much of the liquid. It was brought up to his mouth and Derek guzzled almost desperately at the room temperature water—uncaring at the slightly stale taste, only happy that it quenched his thirst and took a step towards clearing his head.

(A small one, true enough. But it was a difference that the forest-eyed man could _feel_.)

The boy—Derek’s fellow prisoner, from what the Alpha could tell in the short amount of time that he’d been awake—waited until the ‘wolf was finished with his water before sending an absolutely unintimidating scowl Derek’s way. “ _I’m_ a Stiles,” the teen answered, irritation blatant in the tone of his voice. “It’s a—nickname. No one can actually pronounce my real name, anyway.”

Derek grunted in reply, more focused on seeing if he could track down any more water—or maybe food—than acknowledging a comment that was superfluous at this point in time. Nicknames, real names: didn’t matter, just as long as he perhaps had _something_ to call the teen. And apparently that ‘something’ was _Stiles_.

There was a pause and a moment of silence from the corner of their cell, and Stiles finally offered up, tone dry: “You totally just let a societal cue pass you on by, Sourwolf. Typically when someone gives you their name, it’s only polite to return with the same. Just. Y’know.”

Pausing in his quest to track down _some_ sort of food or drink—though it was looking less and less likely that anything else had been left behind the longer that Derek shakily made his way around the cell’s perimeter—the ‘wolf shot a sharp glance Stiles’ way. His reply was equally brusque, the hazel-eyed Alpha’s name only: “Derek.”

Stiles remained silent for a moment or two longer, perhaps expecting that Derek might follow that up with a last name or some other type of standard introductory phrase, but when the ‘wolf didn’t add anything else on to his single word and instead returned to his careful perusing of the room, the teen huffed a breath and settle back against the wall he had previously been leaning against while Derek remained unconscious. Having a fair idea as to what the older man was doing, Stiles commented idly, “There’s nothing for you to find. They drop off food only once a day and you were unconscious for four. I already ate and drank everything else.”

“And you didn’t think to save anything more for me?” Derek snapped out in irritation, tossing Stiles another dark glance even as he shifted to settle against the wall opposite the teen. Hunger and thirst pinched at the Alpha’s control, making it brittle, and the man pushed back at the wolf that stirred to life, brought to the surface by fear and anger and the desire for food.

Obviously unrepentant, Stiles shrugged in answer. “I honestly didn’t know if you’d be waking up _at all_ —so, yeah, I didn’t save anything for you.”

Derek snarled in response, and the teen flinched back and away from the Alpha ‘wolf—slamming the back of his head against the wall behind him, which prompted a foul curse in answer. As Stiles reshifted, settling and making himself as comfortable as possible once again in their small cell, the soft, cheery sound of metal striking against itself followed each of the teen’s movements; Derek tracked the bend of Stiles’ arm as he moved to rub the knot forming on his skull, and the older man’s eyes narrowed as he caught sight of the starlight-bright glimmer of chains linking the other’s wrists together.

The presence of the cuffs was… unusual. It didn’t make sense to bind the amber-eyed human, even as fragile as the chains looked to Derek’s too-familiar gaze, and instead allowed the werewolf to roam free. The Alpha was obviously the more dangerous of the two, and yet there were no bindings placed on him to fetter his movements.

…perhaps, then, the hunters didn’t expect the Alpha to wake up _at all_ : a thought that made Derek’s lip curl slightly upwards in dark, predatory intent.

“Surprised they decided to actually put you in chains,” the elder commented absently, still watching Stiles prod at his new injury with a careful, leery sort of concern that spoke of too much practice inspecting himself for damage—the joys of being a human teenager, Derek supposed: always awkward, always clumsy, like a puppy still growing into its legs and more inclined to go tumbling ass over teakettle.

“That was the first thing that they did, even before tossing me in their van,” Stiles admitted with a grimace. Done with his inspection, the teen instead brought a wrist up to his free hand and rubbed at the obviously raw-looking skin bared by the sleeves of his red hoodie. The whiskey-eyed boy’s skin was red and inflamed—sores weeping clear fluid in several spots where it looked like Stiles had tried his best to wiggle out of and tugged at the gleaming cuffs.

Derek’s guilt complex reared its head at seeing the teen so obviously in pain, plush mouth twisting unhappily as he held his hands close to his chest, defensive and protective both of the vulnerability the ‘wolf had noticed. It was enough to make the green-eyed Alpha sigh quietly to himself, resigned to the fact that—even now—he couldn’t let things go. “Come here and let me see,” Derek ordered and lifted an eyebrow at Stiles’ almost immediately suspicious glance that was shot the ‘wolf’s way. “Maybe I can get them off without hurting you.”

The potentiality was enough to have Stiles perk up in interest, though his movements were still cautious as he made his way closer to Derek—almost tripping over an untied shoelace, though the human boy managed to catch himself at the very last moment before he ended up faceplanting on the concert floor in front of the ‘wolf.

“Sorry,” Stiles muttered quietly and settled, cross-legged and unusually graceful, in front of Derek.

Derek grunted in reply and captured one of the teen’s hands between his own, bringing the slim limb closer to inspect it for weaknesses, already looking for potential stress points that the Alpha could utilize to free the boy without harming him further. With the cuffs and chain brought closer, however, Derek began to notice unexpected, unusual details: the metal wasn’t steel or iron, as he had originally been anticipating: instead, it looked as if the metal was some odd mix of silver and something else, delicate and strong and highlighted with runic symbols and a script that the Alpha couldn’t read. The words blurred, shifting and rearranging themselves every time that Derek blinked.

It was… eerie and made Derek feel—unsettled. Nauseous, too, every time that the words smudged within his gaze.

“You’re—what? One hundred forty-seven pounds of pale skin and fragile bones; a feather’d knock you over,” the ‘wolf commented in a low mutter, rude and dismissive in an attempt to dismiss his unease. “Why did they even bind you? You’re human; it’s not like you were a threat to them.”

“Habit, most likely,” Stiles shrugged, watching closely as Derek tightened his grip on two halves of one of his cuffs before jerking his fingers away with a surprised hiss of pain as the metal sparked, white-hot and biting, beneath the Alpha’s touch.

Silence fell between the two as they both stared down at the still-spitting cuff; Stiles’ shoulders sagged briefly at the obvious thought that Derek wouldn’t try again to free him, but it was that small gesture of resignation and defeat that prodded at the hazel-eyed ‘wolf’s stubborn streak: obligation, too, in the fact that there had been no guarantee that the Alpha would ever awaken considering the dosage of wolfsbane he’d been hit with, but the human boy had still saved some of his water for the Alpha in the off chance that Derek _did_ wake up.

Derek’s pack was elsewhere—far enough away from _here_ that the Alpha couldn’t feel any of the bonds that tied him to his Betas—and it was the empty, echoing places within him that left him currently bereft and hurting in a completely different way than the purely physical that prodded the ‘wolf to… try again. To look after this young, vulnerable human who had somehow got caught up in his mess and was currently hurting from the restrictions the hunters had placed upon him.

 _Protect. Defend. Ours now._ Derek’s instincts whispered to him, paralleled and paired with the soft, rumbling growl that buoyed up from the darkest places within his soul, smooth as velvet and as dangerous as a knife between the ribs.

“C’me here,” Derek ordered, gruff and scowling, and snagged Stiles by the sleeve of his hoodie to draw the teen closer yet again for a second attempt to free him. Once more, Derek grasped the human’s cuff between his hands and gritted his teeth as the metal once more spat sparks at him in retaliation; it _hurt_ , more than it should have, burning agony that slowly crawled up his arms from the very tips of his fingers: yet, despite the pain, Derek refused to let go.

The Alpha’s muscles flexed as he attempted to pry the shackle apart—the metal groaned against the pressure, stubborn as Derek was in how it refused to bend or break, and Stiles watched as Derek’s fangs dropped in a silent, furious snarl. The werewolf’s eyes flared a bloody crimson as muscles bulged and strained and _pulled_ , refusing to relent in his effort of freeing the human teen from his bindings:

Silver suddenly screeched, high pitched and agonized as it warped beneath Derek’s touch—but it finally gave way, breaking into two pieces—one piece in each of the ‘wolf’s hands—at one last attempt to pull the cuff apart.

“ _Oh_ ,” Stiles breathed out, chuckling into the silence as the world held its breath.

Power suddenly slammed down, filling the space within their cell and turning the air heavy, weighted down and thick enough that Derek _choked,_ eyes going wide at the abrupt lack of oxygen: there was a malevolent sort of edge to the power, hungry in its need and whispering temptation and sin.

A hand covered Derek’s forest-touched eyes, regulating the Alpha to darkness, and he felt a mouth press a soft kiss to his stubbled cheek, full lips curving against Derek’s five day-old beard in a sly, knowing smile that sent a shiver of trepidation down and over the ‘wolf’s skin, raising goosebumps along its pathway.

“Whatever you do, keep your eyes closed, Derek,” Stiles murmured against the sharp edge of the older man’s cheekbone.

Fear was something real now, a trembling sort of terror—of horror of the unknown, recognized despite it—and Derek’s heart raced within his chest at the knowledge that Stiles _was not human_ and that the Alpha had unintentionally freed something that _he did not understand_. Breath shuddering out, Derek slowly closed his eyes, lashes brushing against the palm of the apparent teen’s hand; Stiles didn’t pull his hand away until he felt the other’s lids lower completely.

“Remember. Keep your eyes closed until I say otherwise.”

Derek shuddered as he felt Stiles’ weight pull away from him, and the newly vacated space somehow felt even… emptier… at the lack of the amber-eyed boy’s presence. It put the Alpha on edge, senses ramped up and hyperalert before the ‘wolf jerked away in surprise at the sudden explosion that came from the direction of the cell’s door, heat then slamming into him like a fiery tsunami—hot enough to trigger long-buried memories and nightmares, parching enough to promise a maelstrom of fire and flame within its heart.

Still: Derek kept his eyes closed, afraid of what he’d see should he open them.

It wasn’t long after that that the ‘wolf began picking up the sounds of gunfire, sharp expulsions filling the air of their prison; almost immediately after the too-familiar _pop-pop-pop_ of gunfire came the screams. They were terror-stricken, agonized and oftentimes abruptly cut off—sometimes almost immediately upon their start. Yet, even through the horror of the audible warzone happening not that far from him… Derek kept his eyes closed, terrified, as well, by the fact that through it all… the Alpha didn’t hear Stiles. At all. Not his breathing or heartbeat, the scuff of a Converse upon the flooring: nothing. _Silence_.

Seconds, minutes, hours, days later—Derek didn’t know and couldn’t bring himself to care, only remaining still and keeping his gaze hidden as had been asked of him, no matter and in spite of the terror that caressed its way up his spine and into his heart—a weight settled itself over the Alpha’s thighs and a claw-tipped finger traced along the edge of Derek’s jawline.

“You can look now,” Stiles said, tone bright and cheery—matched by the brilliance of his amber gaze as Derek opened his eyes and _stared_ at the teen straddling his hips. The smothering power was gone; Stiles fingertips ended in blunt, chewed-upon nails—not the claws that had just been brushing over Derek’s beard; no blood, no injury to show as evidence for what _must_ have happened just now: nothing. Just a boy who looked no older than seventeen and who had the most brilliant whiskey-hued eyes that Derek had ever seen.

“…what are you?” the Alpha whispered, shuddering in a breath.

“Something that _Fell_ long before your ancestors crawled up from the ocean’s belly, shivering and afraid at the first touch of a night’s air against their skin,” the boy lightly answered, and the curve of his mouth turned absent and fond in its crookedness.

Derek swallowed, hazel eyes going wide as he continued to meet Stiles’ too old gaze, telling now that the veil had slipped away and was finally discarded. “And what do you plan on doing with me?” he asked, voice lowering: wary and afraid, though it stung something within him—something that he had promised himself to never feel, to never succumb to ever again—and refused to glance away.

If anything, the amusement sharpened and turned predatory—hungry and feral in its hunger—as Stiles’ mouth curved further. There was nothing human in that expression: an already stretched thin mask that helped the other ape humanity for as long as was needed, though something dark and eldritch in nature—unknowing and unknowable—peeked out from between the seams.

The Alpha was afraid—and yet, too, _something_ called to him from within Stiles’ sunfire-bright gaze.

“It would be rude of me to hurt you when you had been kind enough to break my bindings,” the whiskey-eyed other commented in turn and rested his forearms over the curve of Derek’s shoulders, still watching the Alpha ‘wolf from beneath the thick cover of his lashes. “It’d be only polite enough to let you go; don’t you think?”

He paused for a moment, head tilting just-so to the side in a gesture that was almost birdlike and alien in its movement. “And, besides, letting you go would mean that you’d owe me two favors later on.”

“But I freed you from the shackles.”

“That’s true enough, Sourwolf. But I also watched over you while you were unconscious—and I just finished taking care of our wardens after you broke the bindings. Which means that the coast is clear and you’re free to go. So: two favors.”

There were two choices spread out before Derek:

He could fight the decree and hope that he somehow managed to puzzle his way out of the word traps before him.

Or he could accept the fact that fighting would be pointless at this time and agree to the fact that he would owe two favors to Stiles later on—not knowing, as well, what the amber-eyed teen would ask for as payment (and therein lay the danger).

But…

Should Derek agree, that also would mean that, at some point in the future, the Alpha would get to _see_ Stiles at least two more times when the other came to collect on those favors—and that potentiality settled that lingering, aching, confusing draw within the Alpha, the one that pulled and pushed and zeroed in on the boy still perched in Derek’s lap: hungry, in turn, because even while Derek’s ancestors had been trembling and afraid, they were still _predators_ and it didn’t take long before they ran, teeth gleaming white and thick with saliva, beneath that newly birthed moon that meandered across the sky.

The boy in his lap was a monster of his own caliber—and Derek _wanted_.

“…I agree. Two favors, Stiles,” the ‘wolf finally said, knowing that he was damning himself even as Stiles’ smile spread wide, wider still, inhuman and terrifying and _beautiful_ , and it was Derek who leaned in first when the teen gently tilted the ‘wolf’s chin upwards for a kiss to seal the promise just made: a deal made with a devil.

It _consumed_ him—

And Derek sparked and caught fire.

::fin::

**Author's Note:**

>  ** _My Childhood Spat Back Out The Monster That You See_** \- Fanmix
> 
> +
> 
> [“My Songs Know What You Did In The Dark (Light Em Up)” – Fall Out Boy](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LkIWmsP3c_s)
> 
> [“Trip The Darkness” – Lacuna Coil](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VTT6picaCoQ)
> 
> [“Starlight” – Muse](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Pgum6OT_VH8)
> 
> [“Take Me Over” – Red](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ey3jxwMWTAk)
> 
> [“Runnin’” – Adam Lambert](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ktqzdUYbpGY)
> 
> [“A Million On My Soul” – Alexiane](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=E6l5ezErGuw)
> 
> [“It Has Begun” – Starset](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XZp3Mtn-YsI)
> 
> [“Inside of You, In Spite of You” – Thoushaltnot](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fqjIMsLRz94)
> 
> [“War of Change” – Thousand Foot Krutch](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HdnTSXUWd3E)
> 
> [“I Am The Fire” – Halestorm](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8hkmuTvkp_s)
> 
> [“Judas” – Lady Gaga](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wagn8Wrmzuc)
> 
> [“Dance With The Devil” – Breaking Benjamin](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lMSkC2PGyTs)


End file.
